(i can’’t be saved) reaching for the life I threw away

watching as it circles in the drain

An hour before sunset, the cabbit sludged through the shallows of the River of Life. With every step closer to the shore, Lucia’s paws took on more body weight, more strain. So, too, did the weight of the half-full net secured to a strap across her waist. Pebbles shifted below her paws and threatened to unbalance her.

Her teeth chattered. Water dripped from her whiskers. Her waterproof coat protected her from the worst of hypothermia, but she was not adapted to this cold climate. She’d grown up on a tropical island and while her mutations allowed her to thrive in the water, she couldn’t spend too much time in the frigid waters.

Lucia’s rear paws left the water. As she walked towards her home, she shook out each paw one by one. Her teeth still chattered. Her pawpads and nose had long since gone numb from the river’s chill. Now came the worst of the pinpricks of returning bloodflow.

By Requiem and Vayu (no, by Neandryne), Lucia wished the worst of her pain was the bloodflow returning to her nose. She sneezed. That jerk of the head flung the rest of the water off her coat.

She should be grateful. She was grateful. Yesterday, her abdomen had burned with agony both razor sharp and bone crushing. She hadn’t been able to leave her home, nevermind go for her morning swim. That had worried Monty. But failing to go for a swim this morning? That had alarmed him. She hated seeing him like that, hated knowing she caused those feelings in him. Gods (no, God), why couldn’t her body let her live?

Lucia continued walking. The net containing freshwater clams and mussels dragged behind her.

Now she was out of the river, the dull agony in her abdomen returned. Bloodflow? Or the cold soothed the inflammation? She bit her lip, but kept walking.

Right before the meeting, Monty had given her medicine for the pain. She’d taken half. Maybe if she’d taken the full dose, she would have a full net of food for everyone. But, no, pain wasn’t reasonable like that. A full dose today? She’d take a full dose the next time the pain climbed this high. How long until she needed such a dose that it clouded her mind, prevented her from swimming? The pain had started as nothing more than an increase of menstruation agony. Was yesterday her new maximum pain day? Or was yesterday going to be the new normal in six months? Was this pain noise to overcome or a signal of her impending death?

Lucia focused on the crunching snow beneath her paws. The texture of the cold against her complaining paw pads. The smell of the sharp cold signaling tomorrow would be frigid.

Monty would be waiting for her. If the pain returned tomorrow, he’d be there to help. If the pain wasn’t there? Nobody would be happier than him—not even her—and, by Requiem’s grace and Vayu’s mercy, he would be happy because she wasn’t in pain.

Everyone else, Lucia thought, considered her pain days an inconvenience to their dinner plans.

(i can’’t be saved) reaching for the life I threw away

watching as it circles in the drain

One of the cabbit’s long ears swiveled to Branwen. A few beats later, Lucia swiveled her neck to properly look at her friend. Another moment for her miserable expression to fade into a slight smile. However, the stress in her posture and the heaviness in her pink eyes didn’t fade.

“That’d be a huge help.” Lucia twisted to her left, then bit the buckle to undo the strap. When the belt keeping the net tethered to her waist dropped away, so too did the agony in her abdomen decrease. She really needed to figure out a better way to tether the net to her body while swimming, while walking back.

Now that a considerable source of strain was removed, the cabbit sighed and shook out her paws properly. Then batted, with a paw, at each of her long ears. When she’d first arrived in the congregation, it’d taken her a while to get used to the frigid waters and the near-hypothermia symptoms. But she’d adapted. She was proud of adapting.

Was this an acceptable way to live? Was it really better here? No, she’d made her choice; she couldn’t go back to Meteor.

Lucia grinned at Branwen. Her teeth still chattered. Her abdomen still throbbed. But, by the gods, the pain would be there no matter what she did, why not live?

“Ha, I feel better already with that weight off me!” Her grin widened. “Come on, you help me lug that home and you get second pick on the first portion of cooked shellfish. After me, of course. I grabbed the fuckers through ice cold and hellish pain.”

Her grin flickered with a bit of doubt. Advice from Vale echoed in her head: Psh, they call us antisocial… what are prosocials, if not happy to serve? Then words from Meteor: Antisocials are not defective. We’re born to lead the prosocials.

But she wasn’t so sure. She was more like a parasite, wasn’t she? A shameless, guiltless parasite.

(i can’’t be saved) reaching for the life I threw away

watching as it circles in the drain

The cabbit turned to Monty. Her smile wavered, and she blinked rapidly to keep her eyes from misting over. He was, perhaps, the only person in the world she didn’t have to uphold a strong facade for. And she never needed to ask him for help; he simply offered, without her needing to ask. By Requiem and Vayu, asking for help was impossible.

(Was that why she’d dated Meteor? Because he saw past her barriers? Monty was different; she'd let him see her.)

Lucia nodded to Monty. Her long ears lowered, and she attempted to headbutt his shoulder. “Alright. Sounds like teamwork to me.”

She wouldn’t have admitted this, but it was necessary that Monty had crouched down. She didn’t have the energy to jump. Swimming? Easy compared to jumping. In the water, her rear legs never had to carry her bodyweight. And jumping? Put more than four times the strain of her bodyweight on the joints. She’d read that in a textbook while trying to figure out why the agony of her pelvis interfered with certain exercises, didn’t interfere with others. Mysterious.

Now on Monty like a sack of potatoes—front legs and head dangling on his left shoulder, rear legs and tail on his right—Lucia exhaled. The tension slid out of her muscles. Let him carry her home. She had a nice warm nest of furs waiting for her to curl up in… then there’d be a hot meal with the fruits harvested from the River of Life.

All in all, not a bad evening for a pain day. By Requiem and Vayu, she didn’t want another pain day like yesterday. Please let that stay the worst of my life.

Then the cabbit glanced at Mae. She grinned. A fang carrying neurotoxins flashed from between her lips. “That’s excellent advice. Thanks for sharing your weather expertise.”

(i can’’t be saved) reaching for the life I threw away

watching as it circles in the drain

“Home sounds nice.” Lucia sighed. Her eyes half-closed, and she watched the trees pass by as Monty carried her into the heart of the Congregants’ land.

The warmth of Monty seeped into her post-swim, near-hypothermia body. Her eyes slipped shut.

Startled, she blinked when her body lurched. Took her half a second to realize Monty had to adjust his walk to a crouch in order to slip through the tunnel. Once she figured that out—and, then, the auxiliary fact that she’d drifted asleep—Lucia’s tension dissolved into relaxation. By Requiem and Vayu (no, Neandryne!) she’d pushed herself too far today, hadn’t she?

Lucia slipped into the pile of rabbit furs and soft pelts. Her bright blue fur—a visible mutation warning of her mutated neurotoxin fangs, she’d always assumed—stuck out against the white, tan, and speckled rabbit pelts. If she was to act like a rabbit in the Congregants of Genesis, at least she was surrounded by the soft and warmth of that camouflage. She snuggled beneath the covers.

Good thing she’d dried off completely already. She’d hate to ruin her bed.

“I’ll rest.” She looked up to Monty and nodded. She didn’t have to fake the yawn. By the gods (all of them), she was tired.